An Unannounced Homecoming
by NamelessMoonshine
Summary: Mandarin was the only member who turned against the Hyperforce's purpose, defecting to the side of evil. Yet when a chance for redemption presents itself, will the true motive for the sixth monkey's disloyalty be revealed?
1. The Sixth Monkey Returns

_All characters, original concepts, canon names/traits/occurrences, basic plots, and such other objectives of this story not specifically labeled as otherwise belong to Jetix, Disney, and several individuals of which I am simply too flat out lazy to write the names of because quite frankly it's just too long a list. Certain aspects of this story do not belong to them, however, including general theories as to the nature of Mandarin's leaving the team and all that rot, and the portrayal of the characters, including fan-created scenarios of the past. Those things are mine, and no one else's. I advise against any legal action taken against me for the content of this fanfiction, as I'm relatively impoverished what with being an in-debt college student. You really won't get all that much._

I told myself it was over.

I said I wouldn't come running back.

...I sound like a lovesick idiot, don't I?

Alas, tis oh-so-true. I have a tendency to think I'm a little too...grown up for this place at times. Which, yes, I know that is an incredible show of arrogance. Ah well, the important thing of life is to enjoy it, and I always did enjoy this place, for reasons I cannot quite explain to anyone who holds a decent shred of sanity. Perhaps the idea of being able to post a story here that is almost certain to be seen and given some form of feedback is too much to let go of; since we're all glory-hounds at heart. Or at least I am. I can't vouch for you readers.

Sorry, but I barely know you.

Alright then.

I would _like_ to say that this is my first bit of _Super Robot Monkey Team Hyper Force Go!_ fanfiction, but that would be something of a lie, seeing as I've hoarded away far, far too many of these snippets for this to even rate in the top ten of the original works. But I like this one, so it will get its own little spot on the Internet. This story was written for two reasons: I wanted to write something from a villain's perspective, and I adore the character Mandarin, if only for his thou-art-inferior ways and the fact that he played Benedict Arnold. I have a soft spot for turncoats.

So enjoy the story...or...well, whatever it is you do.

* * *

**An Unannounced Homecoming  
**_The Sixth Monkey Returns_

* * *

The sunrise blazed in glorious splendor above the city-planet of Shuggazoom, demanding the silent attention of the world beneath it, which on most nights managed to bustle restlessly until the wretched hours of early morning. More often than not, at the very least there would have been a small, scattered numbers of couples sitting blissfully underneath the rosy aura of quickly coming morn, but on this dawn, there was an unchallenged quiet. A storm had battered the city late in the night, one that had migrated across the wilderness outside of the vast metropolis to strike in the late night hours. Though the world seemed the fresher for the sudden onslaught of rain and thunder upon it, such an occurrence—as rare as they were—meant that there were no civilian spectators to witness the majestic ascension of the sun into the brightening sky.

Nor did anyone see the struggling figure of a small creature as it forced its feet to move through the deserted streets.

The silhouetted animal swayed gently on its apparently exhausted legs, moving with an ungraceful demeanor that bespoke the fact that all motion was sheer willpower and extraordinary stamina. Hissing breaths were one of the very few sounds echoing through the almost silent city, and every few steps, the stranger's entire form would shudder heavily for a split moment before its owner forced it to move on. It seemed unlikely the injured being would make it anywhere it planned to go if the destination wasn't already close, but such logic was simply discarded without further inquiry.

Sunlight illuminated fire-orange fur as soon as the hobbling form shuffled out into the park, the helmeted head jerking away from the light in pain as pupils drank in the sudden brightness. A small chest that bore dozens of criss-crossed scars of battle heaved, agony rushed through metal and flesh limbs alike until vision swam, but still the legs held and the feet were commanded to move forward, for it was only a little farther now. After so long, surely he could manage a little more distance.

Apparently not.

Slender legs buckled without warning, and steel arms shot outward, their owner forgetting for a moment that he no longer had hands of any kind, and thus he truly had little more that broken wires and dented melted to catch himself. The impact jarred him, and the cry he uttered was low and soft, too sudden for him to bite back. The mental reprimand he gave himself was partially lost in the midst of searing aches that coursed through his body as if they were within his very life's blood, and a white muzzle clenched shut to ensure he would not cry out again.

"There is no pain." He growled aloud, his accent reverberating off of the concrete and asphalt, ringing against metal structures and reaching his single working sonic antennae. Morning light now flooded the open space that was Shuggazoom Park, showing the features of the traveler for a nonexistent audience.

A monkey.

Hunched over in the usual fashion of non-sentient primates, it was obvious from his demeanor and the faint sounds of discomfort he made that the diminutive creature had adopted this pose solely because of pain, and that most occasions found him standing as straight as any human would. His face was narrow, especially considering the scarred features gracing it, and dark eyes gazed out at the early morning with a defiant glow of red to their center, though it was dim. The monkey's entire left part of his face seemed to have borne a great deal of damage, for one antennae meant to enhance his hearing was missing entirely, and the ear beneath was crusted with dried blood, along with the cracked lens covering the eye on that side.

Useless arms twitched with the mechanical memory of hands and serviceable digits attached to them; his chest heaved, having been stripped of the armor he had always worn to protect himself for as long as he could remember being a cyborg. His back had been laid open by something with claws that were certainly at least as long as his arm and sharper than most, for the jetpack that had been there was shredded to pieces, and wherever flesh showed there was at least one angry red line running across it.

"Pain is an illusion." The mantra came again, the thick underlay that was his natural voice warbling slightly. Small fangs ground together, and the barely working eyes focused on watching the ground for anything that would cause him to stumble, stubbed arms moving outward just barely to attempt a steadying maneuver as he walked. He felt his legs protest the action more grievously than ever, and almost allowed himself the inane pleasure of telling them to shut up and move. Instead, he used his air for a more worthwhile cause. "Only the weak allow pain to rule them."

One step. Then another.

And another.

Until he lost count of the steps, standing in the midst of an open area, and wincing for the city was stirring around him, and he would not have dozens of human looked upon his state before he had had a chance to find a better, more defensive place to hide. His energy was all but spent, and tiredness racked his body relentlessly, forcing his knees to bend further under his weight with each new step that was taken. He shook his head as the corners of his vision began to swim and haze like underwater images, but the movement simply made the effect that much more pronounced, until a headache raged beneath his dented helmet. His bruised ribs objected all too openly as he attempted to deepen his breath enough to meditate, a prospect he'd always disliked, but at the moment he was willing to do almost anything to be rid of the pain. Sheer torment of being, but he would not die; his life was something that was his and only his and it was not to become forfeit in any situation.

But the pain...

"There. Is. No. Pain." He wished he still had claws to dig into the cement. Something to take his mind off of the swimming images of battle and agony, and the fact that his computer uplink to the Robot wasn't working properly, leaving him unable to contact aid or at the very least find out how long he'd been unconscious.

Another step. How many was that?

He stumbled then, falling against a form that was far more solid than he, and as he tried to focus his waning sight, he was able to make out a face that looked straight ahead, paying him absolutely no heed, not even a glance. Too exhausted to be indignant about being ignored, the heavily damaged primate allowed himself a brief respite against those firm legs. If the human wasn't going to say anything, then why should he?

That thought got through, and suddenly he was up and attempting to take an equally defensive and offensive pose to combat the person who was still paying him no mind. Paranoia rushed through him, followed by a dim wave of anger at not immediately being assuaged or confirmed in the matter of his suspicions. Then he stopped, because the features of this man were very familiar to him, and he couldn't think as to why, since for the larger part of his life he hadn't made it a point to know the names of humans in the city.

Oh.

Oh, yes of course. The Hidden Fortress' access module. It had been designed to look like a common tourist and placed in Shuggazoom Park, wasn't that right? His brain swam and now his body complained treacherously until he scuffled to the nearest supporting column of the park construct. He'd wasted valuable energy allowing himself to be spooked in such a way, and his temper battled his pride within his tired mind.

_Ignorant fool._ He hissed at himself, not bothering to speak. _Now is not the time to jump at shadows. Concentrate. How much farther do you have to go? How much more time do you have?_

The helmeted head tilted upward, and a sour face spread across the wane countenance of the spent monkey. A vague wish that he still had a hand to shield his eyes passed fleetingly through him, but he pushed the thought away. There was no time for feeling sorry for himself. The sun was too high already; if it was visible then it was too high.

"Not long now..." He murmured, trying to access his internal calendar and failing miserably. He had no power from his energy cell, no uplink to the only source of information and chance at help, and he was wasting time sitting here, but his legs simply weren't going to move yet. The urge to sleep weighed upon his eyelids, but there would be no rest. He wanted to be awake, had to be. He would not go quietly.

Not he.

"Ah, so I was correct to suspect that you would come here."

Chilling laughter rushed up his spine and though he wanted to stand as if nothing was wrong and face the much larger creature he knew was standing there with all his hard-won pride and power, there was nothing save a slight turn of that assaulted head and a narrowing of already dim eyes.

"So you were." He wanted to be derisive, but there was no strength for such a luxury. His accent made the words thick, more so than the pain had already made them. But they were understandable, if only just. The face he glared at so weakly broke into a grin wider than usual, toothy and sharp looking as it had always been. He remained unimpressed.

The visage of his mortal enemy did little to frighten him, mostly because it was shown in the most cowardly way. Instead of coming on his own two feet, the loathsome master of evil opted instead to send a searingly white robot covered in faintly glowing lines and fitted with a screen to transfer his image across the distance. It was a familiar monster, one he knew he had seen before, but beyond that nagging déjà vu, there was little to identify it.

"Foolish, filthy primate." The oily voice soothed, slanted eyes gleaming in assured victory. The image fizzed and crackled every so often, but the aura of the ruler of the undead oozed readily from the circuitry of the machine. "There are no allies for you here."

"My brethren are not dead." A statement, grim and weak, but solid in its spoken form even if the speaker was failing. His knees were wobbling inwardly, but he would not lean any further. He would die before he let himself go to his knees before a grinning skull. Die and rot, and eat human food, which unless it was grown in a completely organic state was the vilest substance alive.

"Oh?"

"You have not killed them."

This time it was logic fueling his argument, for Shuggazoom was a ghost town, but it was not in ruin. He could hear no one in the streets, but it was early, only six hours before the height of the sun at the very latest because it was winter and the sun rose so much later during that time. It was winter, wasn't it? It had been when he had left for his mission, if he recalled. Any attempt to remember brought flashes of agonizingly vibrant pain to the forefront of his mind. But regardless, he could still smell the scents of people and his working antennae, damaged though it was, could pick up the customary sounds of life. His companions were alive, that much was all too certain; the Skeleton King would never let the city prosper under his control.

"No, but neither have you."

His eyes opened a little at that, but he remained where he was. He doubted he could have moved if he wanted to.

"Nor will I."

"A pity." Two more shapes moved from the first to come to him, and he found himself somewhat insulted. Only two Formless sent to finish him off? He understood the need for silence and quickness, for this was enemy territory to the dark lord and it behooved one to tread lightly on such ground, but surely he merited twelve at least. If not for the sheer act of bringing him down, then at least so that he had some form of honor in the act of it. But only two? He ground his teeth so hard that his gums ached. "I always did enjoy the company of your clones more."

The orange monkey's answer was barely heard, but the intent of the flowing words spoken in the foreign dialect was all too clear in meaning, and the King's grin faded oh-so-slightly. There was a victory in that, however small.

"Dispose of him."

He moved then, leaning backwards hard, for one of the Formless accompanying his enemy swung out a long arm, only missing because of the distance he'd instinctively placed between himself and the long claws the creature possessed. The next attack however, landed hard, connecting with his chest and earning a loud yelp as he was flung backwards, hitting the concrete hard and staying there. One handless arm moved, attempting to give the monkey support in order to raise himself, but a large foot landed hard on the appendage, pinning it down and bending the metal and flesh beneath so that the monkey could not stifle the sharp cry of pain. The other arm was treated in much the same way, as were his legs. A Formless towered on either side of him, and the primate struggled as only the condemned could, voicing outrage at so easily being held down.

He would not be executed in so low a manner!

Never!

The looming, white mechanism, TV Monster he nearly growled as the name rushed back to his senses through the blinding pain as his limbs were being crushed, moved forward, the face of the Skeleton King vicious with glee upon its monitor. For a moment, he caught himself wondering how the machine had been fixed, but forgot the question as quickly as it had come. He scowled, roaring the worst combinations of curse words he could manage to think of through the agony, and was only rewarded with a deeper smirk. The bone dictator had won, and he knew it.

"You never did learn."

The right arm of the robot moved forward, and the orange monkey gritted his teeth as the evil creation's limb reformed itself into an energy weapon. A blue glow covered his face, making the eyes beneath his lenses water, but he would not turn his head from death, or close his eyes. He had never backed down in life, and refused to do so now, when that life was coming to an end. If his death was to be dishonorable, then he would not be to blame for it.

"Farewell, to a highly unworthy adversary."

Just as the beam was to fire, Mandarin froze and blinked in the solid millisecond, because he could almost make out—

"_Boom Boom WAKE-UP_!"

"_Magna-Tingler BLAST_!"

"_Cyclo-Chopping DOOM SPIN!_"

The Formless on either side of him fell apart like wet sand, and the TV Monster rocked as several more blasts struck it from behind. He'd never approved of attacking an enemy from behind, but even in his remarkably injured state, he could see that this was to lure the creature off of him until he could be moved out of harm's way. Then there would be battle done here. He winced, trying to make his limbs obey, for he would not have himself rescued like a helpless civilian. Perhaps it was arrogant of him, but really, it didn't behoove him to return home on a stretcher of all things.

The robot monster had turned away and was advancing on whichever members of the team going against it had been elected to fight, so he breathed softly and managed to drag himself up off the ground, albeit shakily.

"Whoa there! Can't have you hurting yourself, buddy!"

Strong hands wrapped themselves underneath his arms and jerked him upward, so much that a loud groan caught in his throat as he felt the break in his tail pulled along the ground. Then suddenly he landed hard against the cool concrete, his vision going spotted and blinking as he attempted to focus on the blur above him.

Green.

Well, that explained that lack of restraint in handling him.

The blob of white serving as his comrade's mouth moved, but no sound came out, and he accurately decided that the other monkey was making fish faces at him. He wanted to roll his eyes so badly that he almost troubled himself with it. Instead he summoned the last of his precious energy and chose to get the damn primate moving before Skeleton King remembered they were simply standing there and tried sending a blast their way.

"Otto."

It was all he could manage to get out before his system flashed all of the seventeen warning signals that were programmed to appear on the screens on the inside of their lenses before their robotic parts automatically shut down and sent their organic system into a state of suspended animation until repairs and refueling could be accomplished. He agreed to them all grudgingly, for now he was in the care of allies and there wasn't much else he could do but glimpse one last barely clear picture of Otto gaping at him in a manner that could only be taken as incredulous. He gave himself the privilege of being quietly amused.

"Mandarin?"

Well, at least the idiot still knew who he _was_.

* * *

And thus we leave our..._hero_...to fall into the cold grip of unconsciousness.

...I said I liked Mandarin, guys. I didn't say I would be _nice_ to him. Also, please note that I have no earthly idea as to the timeline of this story. I know it's after the Season Two finale, but perhaps before they actually leave Shuggazoom. Or it may in fact be after Ghosts of Shuggazoom. I repeat: not a clue.

Nor do I know, at all, when it may update, if it does so at all. There's a very good chance that it won't.

I do stuff like that.

Now, I'm going to go indulge in what little life I have...which actually doesn't involve leaving the computer so much as simply not talking to you guys anymore:3 Have a lovely day, night, or rest of whichever mode of time you happen to be suffering at this moment.

Hugs, luffles, and chocolate truffles,

Nam


	2. You're Not Going Anywhere

_All characters, original concepts, canon names/traits/occurrences, basic plots, and such other objectives of this story not specifically labeled as otherwise belong to Jetix, Disney, and several individuals of which I am simply too flat out lazy to write the names of because quite frankly it's just too long a list. Certain aspects of this story do not belong to them, however, including general theories as to the nature of Mandarin's leaving the team and all that rot, and the portrayal of the characters, including fan-created scenarios of the past. Those things are mine, and no one else's. I advise against any legal action taken against me for the content of this fanfiction, as I'm relatively impoverished what with being an in-debt college student. You really won't get all that much._

Well. I've finally decided the timeline of this story. Like many people, I'm sure, I have decided to cop out somewhat, and make this a personal portrayal of the Fifth Season That May Never Be. In other words, this story is meant to happen after the fourth season finale. Hey, it was either that or make it an Alternate Universe, and there are dozens of those. I wanted to at least have the story resemble something almost unique.

That, and I really suck at making up whole universes.

I'm very lazy, you see.

But, as this is meant to take place _after all the aired seasons_, there will more than likely be spoilers and lots of them, as I work more and more of the past adventures of our hero(es) into the story. This will probably be the _only _warning I give to you, my readers, which means that this chapter is the gateway to the future of this story through your eyes.

Are you going to let a little thing like knowledge stand in your way?

...my goodness, I actually sounded intelligent for a moment there.

On that note though, there also may be left out episode adventures due to the fact that I haven't seen all four seasons, and some of the time I didn't get to see whole episodes when I did manage to catch the show. If there's a particular episode which you feel is being ignored horribly, or I manage to take something out of context, or I even manage to get something horribly _wrong_, please do not hesitate to drop me a line and voice your concerns. I'm a very nice person and I like input.

And the last warning I have to leave you with: as of _this point in time_, this story has no planned romance or romantic themes of any sort whatsoever, save that which is outright canon and therefore commonplace. I want you to know, however, that there is a _strong_ emphasis on the relationships between all the characters, both friend, foe, and otherwise. Outright romance as of yet however, is not happening. Sorry. XP

So. I think that gets most of the warnings out of the way. I may pop out more, or repeat some, in the future. But for now, I think you're relatively safe.

* * *

**An Unannounced Homecoming  
**_You're Not Going Anywhere_

* * *

For a long moment, he was very nearly aware of the sensation of falling. A sudden flash of _something_ that he might have almost mistaken for light enlightened him to the fact that he was alert. Though his mind was never _remarkably_ fast, he quickly became frustrated at the realization that its efforts in attempting to discern his current physical status and whereabouts were incredibly sluggish. The flash came again, across the corner of what he was relatively sure was his line of vision, before he noticed that he couldn't see or sense anything save a murky, disorienting feeling of pitch black. Fanged teeth gritted, he was pleased to feel that much, and the receding numbness made him more willing to fight the lack of response his body seemed content to continue. On a sudden mental revelation, he attempted to curl his fingers into a fist and was sorely disappointed when he felt the command being completely disregarded.

"I think he's coming to."

His teeth ground together as he strained his mind to recognize the sleep-fogged voice, finding that he only gained a vicious pounding in the back of his head for his trouble. He felt his head tilt back, and tried to conclude as to whether the action was his own or the product of outside influence. A snarl rose in his throat, but he found himself choking on it and began to struggle, suddenly knowing that someone was mentally attempting to push him back into the darkness he was clawing out of.

"I can't hold him! Team, restrain him! Chiro, with me!" The urgency in the words would have made him smile, but he was too preoccupied with the sudden added pressure of hands slamming down onto his limbs, arms and legs he was almost instantly aware of and endeavoring to use as weapons. "Chiro!"

"I'm trying! I'm trying!"

"He is regaining consciousness at an alarming rate." The hard calm in that voice made a very real growl tear itself loose from his throat, its presence fueling the battle and he strained ever harder to break free. "He's already managed to recover over thirty percent of his motor skills—"

"We can _see_ that, Gibson! Just give him the shot—guh!"

A foot caught soft flesh and he acted completely on instinct, slamming the appendage forward again. He was rewarded by another cry of pain and the sudden absence of anyone holding down his left leg. Using it as leverage, he attempted to push himself up off of the table. Around him, several figures scrambled, and he suddenly realized his eyes were open and that they were being blinded by a light overhead. He turned his face away, squinting through the flashing spots in his vision and was able to make out two figures, one much taller than the other, on either side of his face, hands outstretched and obviously concentrating intently. He sneered and heaved upward, but his arms were pinned under heavy weight and he couldn't angle his neck well enough to view the culprit.

"Straps! Activate the straps!"

Out of nowhere, his body was suddenly slammed flat, and he let an inhuman roar rip out of the base of his chest, thrashing against the new restrictions. Many a head was going to roll when he gained his freedom, he would see to that, oh yes. Steel fingers grabbed him by his shoulders and shoved him down as far as possible, the new restraints clicking loudly as they locked into place to hold him. He swung his head to and fro, attempting to gain enough leverage to use his teeth since his physical armory was becoming more diminished by the second, when he sensed a dreary fog in his mind pressing down on him.

He lashed out immediately.

"Gah!"

"Chiro, concentrate!" The voice again, he _knew _that voice, knew all the voices, and found himself angrier than ever. They were attacking his mind, trying to subdue him! His fangs ground against each other as he strained, screeching in a language that he knew without memory, a native tongue he had learned possibly before he was even born. He was not about to let himself be conquered, not without taking someone with him. "Gibson! Where is that serum? We can't hold him under for much longer!"

"I'm coming! But I don't know the proper dosage!" Hurried. They were panicked. He grunted in satisfaction and this time felt the pull of the corners of his mouth moving to smirk. He was winning! "He's too heavily damaged to filter out the excess—"

"Just put it in him before he wakes up!" Deeper, a person who hadn't spoken before and he felt a splitting headache forming in the back of his head.

_It would be easier,_ a soft voice in the recesses of his mind chided him, and for a moment, he was lulled by the sound. It was almost a lullaby, soothing and serene and perhaps if he angled his head back a little more, and closed his eyes even, he would hear it better. _It would be easier to sleep._

"No!" The sound of his own voice jolted his senses and suddenly Mandarin was alert once more. His dark eyes snapped open fully and he bellowed again. "Unhand me!"

He felt the automatic flinch from everyone in the room rather than saw it, but when he attempted to make use of the seconds-long advantage, more hands were suddenly pushing him down, trying to pin him so that he would stay still. More shouts were garbled in the sound of blood rushing through his ears and Mandarin snarled at his captors, cursing their existence.

"Gisbon! Hurry up!"

"I've got it!"

Mandarin narrowed in on the three words and heaved his entire left side upward, titling away from the sound to shake the grip of those holding him, and was rewarded with the sound of the mechanism holding the belts in place cracking, and the one wrapped around his arm splintering suddenly under the pressure.

Without stopping to think, he swiped.

"NO!"

The joint scream was enough to make his heart sing as cool glass connected with his metal arm, knocking it away from grabbing hands. The following shatter almost made him relax.

"Gibson! Another vial, hurry!"

"I can't! If I let go—Otto, help Nova!"

"I don't need help!" A female! Mandarin locked his eyes upward, and caught a glimpse of blazing yellow and grimaced at some distant, fleeting memory. Then he froze, blinking hard beneath the bright light above as he tried to focus. Around him, the group of voices that had been shouting earlier lapsed into shocked silence, still pinning him down, but staring at the look of growing fury spreading across the orange-furred face.

"You idiotic...pathetic excuses for primates, _get off of me this instant_!"

He was sorely displeased when the only one who obeyed his demand was the simple-minded mechanic, and even that result was obviously derived from surprise rather than the desire to follow orders. The wound to his pride was shoved aside for the moment, but not forgotten, as Mandarin scowled at his fellow robot monkeys. Their disloyalty was not something he enjoyed waking up to. He assessed the situation in the moment of stunned compliance, and was unsure as to whether or not he liked what he saw. He was in the medical bay, that much he had expected when he'd collapsed, but awakening to find that he had yet to undergo repairs, and that his uplink to the Super Robot's information database was still severed, was not something he had foreseen in his insightful prediction. Less that they would be shocked that he expected them to obey without question as he always had.

Then he noticed something.

Three somethings to be exact.

First, that two people were most definitely _not_ supposed to be present, and he focused his attention on them immediately, narrowing the eyes he now realized were naked of their protective lenses and still swimming with glancing bubbles of inverted light as they attempted to adjust.

His measuring gaze went over the creature nearest to him, a gleaming thing shaped very much like he was, in the most admiral form of a tailed simian family member. It took a slow moment for him to piece together that this creature was silver,_ made of silver_, and as soon as the word came to mind, several glimpses and fragmented bits of information zoomed through his thoughts, revealing to him in a haphazard method that the creature was entirely robotic and coated with an extremely durable coating of armor comprised mostly of a metallic, alchemical mixture of aforementioned silver, crushed diamonds, assorted alloys, and magic. Not bothering to question how he knew this—having mentally chalked it up to his faulty uplink with the Super Robot they called both weapon and base of operations—Mandarin turned his head to the other intruder and was mildly shocked.

A child.

A _human_ child.

An indignant squawk rose in his throat, forcing him to swallow hard to conceal his discomfort and he stared at the adolescent. Blue eyes stared back piercingly, obstructed at points by wild, pitch black hair which most certainly defied any semblance of gravity. Something about this hairless monkey twisted Mandarin's stomach, setting off warning bells in the back of his head. This juvenile was somehow making him uneasy, bringing on fractured images of battles and fear, throbbing terror of something without form or name.

_Coward! Do you shrink back from the sight of a bald stripling? A human _babe_ frightens you?_ He growled at himself and the technologically-altered monkeys around him stiffened, the two closest to the boy slightly shifting their stance as if they meant to ease themselves between Mandarin and the human. It was a moment before Mandarin realized they meant to protect the young teen from his wrath, and though he was half-amused by the idea, the stance the adolescent instinctively adopted squashed the pleasant feeling of superiority.

The boy stood as one who had seen battle. He was a wiry, lean creature who couldn't possibly be any older than fourteen or so, far too early in his years to have served in any military Mandarin was familiar with, and if he remembered correctly the planet his team had formed their base of operations on had few politics and only one massive economic center that had thrived on the surface, thus there had never been an established armed force upon the planet beyond small, localized officers meant to be general police. Even they rarely carried more than defensive, blunt weapons. This child's face was hardened, comprehensive. It had known pain and loss both, and had striven to ensure that it would have no repeated experiences.

It knew leadership.

Mandarin's eyes narrowed, and his suspicions festered.

A moment passed and he felt a sharp nagging at the back of his skull. His eyes searched the room, and for a sparse second or more, he was not at all certain of what he was looking for. Then it came crashing down on him and he quickly made a headcount.

Second thing he noticed.

Missing. Missing! Where?

"Antauri!" He lurched forward, and to his right there was a startled jump on the part of the unknown silver monkey. "Where is Antauri?"

Pain ricocheted throughout his arms as he huffed and heaved himself up from the table, very much aware of the tense silence surrounding his defiant refusal to remain prone on a medical table. The child and robotic monkey were the most uncomfortable, which Mandarin generously attributed to simple awe at their inexperience of his presence. What had stricken his underlings so completely voiceless was currently beyond his capacity to understand. A scrutinizing glare passed from one subordinate to the next, finding each refusal to answer more infuriating than the last. By the time his gaze fell on the incredibly quiet mechanic at his leftmost corner, nearest his foot, Mandarin was practically livid.

"Well? Is there no functional tongue among the lot of you? You knew no restraints with your shouting earlier!" He snapped, becoming more impatient with each second.

The green monkey's stare didn't waver, something that managed to unnerve the injured Mandarin more than any other strange thing he had witnessed in the last very short span of time since his awakening. A grim line was set on the white flesh of Otto's muzzle, and creases had appeared in the skin and fur where the second youngest team member's heavy metallic brow was sinking downward in a growing frown. He had never known the normally cheerful creature to look so utterly...serious. Mandarin forced himself to not look away.

"Antauri's standing right _there._" The answer came at last, from the crimson-furred pilot who was rubbing his stomach somewhat vigorously, a dark bruise already visible amid the pale skin and fur of his abdomen.

Mandarin looked without turning his head, more out of habit than anything.

"Do not presume to make a fool of me, SPRX-77. _That_ is not Antauri." The orange monkey huffed, angered by what he took to be another fumbling attempt at humor on his brother's part. The silver monkey's optic lights switched into a thick line several times to simulate the action of blinking, which somehow managed to bother the still partially-prone leader. His confusion was steadily mounting, and the rapid increase of frustration was inhibiting his ability to think. A pulsing knot of something right on the verge of his senses demanded attention and _where _was his damned second-in-command when he was summoned?

"Why you-!" SPRX-77 snarled, bearing gritted teeth at the now furious simian on the table. Both males bristled, but almost as suddenly as he had challenged Mandarin, the team's lead aeronaut backed down, his eyes focused on the child at the older monkey's side.

His peripheral vision snapped about, and he caught the last bit of an orange glove falling. The boy, without a word, had asked, _commanded_, one of the Monkey Team members to stand down. And Sprx, both the worst and best example of insubordination among the six of them, had obeyed. Without question no less, a feat of monumental proportions if Mandarin had ever witnessed such a thing in all his years. The sight twisted something buried deep within his stomach and he scowled at the young human, ready to tell him exactly what he thought of a child attempting to reign command over _his_ Hyperforce.

"He speaks the truth, Mandarin."

Mandarin's fur did not simply bristle this time. It stood on end, leaving the orange monkey looking very much like a puffed feline or some sort or another. His eyes snapped over to the silver monkey, which was speaking, speaking to _him, _with _Antauri's _voice no less. It was impossible. It made no _sense_.

"I am indeed Antauri." Twin blue optics blinked again, and there was a silence that did not sit particularly well in the prone monkey's stomach. The silver mimicry of a simian form was staring at him with all the qualities of his second-in-command, the mystic he knew as the eldest of his team besides himself, but somehow Mandarin could not bring his mind to grasp the idea. This walking creation of metal and precious materials was _not _Antauri. Could _not be_ Antauri.

And yet.

Something nagging at the back of Mandarin's mind told him, without a doubt, that this _was_ his highest subordinate, the (once) only other monkey on the team who retained an almost total amount of his original organic structure.

"How..._how_–?"

This could not _be_! Even as he stood with the sheer amount of visual and instinctual evidence before him, Mandarin could only repeat over and over in his mind that this strange transformation held no logical basis, that there was no explanation for something so ludicrous as Antauri suddenly being made of _metal_ and yet he _was_ and _how could this have happened_?

Then Sprx's fist connected with the left side of Mandarin's face.

The ability to hear took a few moments to resurface, but Mandarin knew the signs of screaming rage from lip movements alone. When his sole functioning earpiece was able to process sound waves again, he could hear the struggle of metal scraping against metal as Nova and Gibson attempted to hold Sprx back from the table, and the angry ranting of the pilot as he sputtered in rage and clawed at his fellow teammates for the freedom to strike again.A snarl crossed Mandarin's face then as it sank in that Sprx had dared attempt to challenge his right to lead in that moment, and he pushed himself up. His cheek gave a series of sharp stings as his face contorted wrathfully, but he ignored it, as he ignored the sudden gasps of the child and Antauri while he pulled himself up to attack the insolent little beast he called brother.

He was in mid-leap when Otto collided with his chest and sent them both tumbling across the surface of the medical slab and a good eight feet along the tiled floor. How he ended up with the slightly heavier mechanic seated on his back with his arms pinned to his sides, Mandarin wasn't exactly sure, but he was very displeased, and he jerked his glowering expression upward so that he could inform his brother of the several horrible things that were going to happen when he got up. He stopped before he spoke however, because there was something very wrong.

Otto looked as displeased as Mandarin felt.

He looked...furious.

"Stay down."

The voice was that of the second youngest Monkey Team member, there could be no mistake made there. Yet, it did not entirely sound like Otto. Otto was thoroughly incapable of the jagged force those words held, and rage was beyond the green monkey's narrow range of emotions.

That was the third thing he'd noticed.

Something was very, _very_ wrong.

* * *

I wonder if anyone can see the plot that's going to be put into motion off of this chapter. Probably not. Although you might be able to point out a key element or two based off of what happened.

Still, if you want to make a guess, feel free.

Also, since I didn't say it at the beginning, I'd like to say it now: thank you very much to the lovely reviewers for the first chapter. Reviews giving me a warm feeling in my tummy, like fresh cookies on the first day of school or maybe just chocolate cake. Chocolate cake is delicious, you know. So very delicious.

Hugs, luffles, and chocolate truffles,

Nam


	3. This Is Your Last Chance

_All characters, original concepts, and such other objectives of this story not specifically labeled as otherwise belong to Jetix, Disney, and several individuals of which I cannot be bothered to research and list as of this current time. I continue to advise against taking any form of legal action as I remain a college student and everyone knows that the pockets of such people are filled only with lint and crushed childhood dreams._

I suppose I could offer some form of explanation for my absence. I could blame it on schoolwork, could say that studying nursing leaves too little time for things like fanfiction and the Internet and all those wonderful things I seemed so preoccupied with few years or so ago. It feels like I've aged ten years in a day sometimes and like I'm four years old again at others.

I have a job. I have school. I have friends who came into my life both through this site and others, and still more who I met out in the strange place we call reality (it's bizarre out there; it's so loud and the air moves with fans and sometimes it gives you showers without asking you how you like your temperature and water pressure). There's a million and one reasons I haven't ventured into this spot of web, or any really, in so long. But there's really only one that's true.

For some reason, I couldn't be bothered.

Don't think I'm being mean. I just...seemed to drift away. There were other things needing to be done, and so I did those instead. There are still things that need to be done. Conversations I need to have. Dishes to wash. A pile of laundry to do. Life and all that.

Being an adult, I find, sucks the kid out of you.

So I thought that I'd try and get in touch with that kid again. If only for a moment. I finished this chapter earlier in the year, or perhaps last year, I simply hadn't gone over it. I thought maybe it was time to put it up and see what the old me spun into words.

Here's hoping there aren't another two years in between chapters, eh?

* * *

**An Unannounced Homecoming  
**_This Is Your Last Chance_

* * *

"They have left you alone with me."

Ordinarily, the orange monkey would have disregarded the decision to leave a guard over him. Injured though he was, it was hardly as if he was defenseless. He had managed to fend his team off in this weakened state after all—a fact he was going to have to remedy through rigorous training once the fools had returned to their senses. Yes, in any other case he would have probably ordered the other team member out of the room and gone back to nursing his wounds in the total privacy of the medical bay. Let the team believe he was invincible, and perhaps let himself believe as well. But only a small amount.

But this was _not_ any other case.

Otto had retracted one of his saws. The other was spinning lazily in the midst of its cool-down time, ready to be put into action at a moment's notice should it be needed. Mandarin might have commended this tactical maneuver had it not been directed squarely at him, at the behest of the same human child that his team seemed not only protective of, but subservient to. That alone was nearly too much for the orange monkey to stomach. What made it worse was that apparently all his teammates had deferred total power over to a creature barely aged enough to _speak_. Though it had taken several minutes for the other monkeys to coax Sprx back into his senses and out of the medical bay, the act was accomplished only after the human boy hauled Sprx up by one tensed arm and spoke in low,critical tones meant to be deciphered only by the pilot.

What had been said was not even important. Sprx had always been a defiant one, even before—...before; but the red monkey was really nothing properly applied leadership could not handle. Yet...much to Mandarin's chagrin, a method involving mere mouth-sounds from a human who was not even a recognized adult by _animal_ standards had succeeded where years of strong-arming, strict control, and several physical bouts had not.

Mandarin bristled at the implied conclusion.

No human toddler could manage better leadership than he. His brethren were merely being soft-hearted toward what in their eyes was a helpless, innocent creature. They were humoring the brat. …if they asked to be allowed to _keep_ it, he was going to throttle them.

"Someone has to watch you." Otto bit out sullenly. It was a little more than painfully obvious that Otto did not want that someone to be him. He'd been hostile ever since having Mandarin pinned under his saws, and had kept his blades trained on the older monkey throughout the rest of the affair. Now as the others collaborated away from prying ears (his) on topics unknown (what to do about him; which was preposterous since he had practically founded the Hyperforce), Mandarin was left in the bay with the monkey that least desired to be there.

Still, the choice made sense. Sprx's temper would not hold under any circumstances in Mandarin's presence. Not while Mandarin was sorely lacking the weapons and armor that brought about his full glory and strapped to the cot frame (and told in undertones that he was to _stay there or else_, the ingrates). Nova was prone to violent outbursts herself, and not likely to take any attempt at exclusion from whatever final conclusion the rest of the team was making. Meanwhile Antauri and Gibson were both vital in information and status for all judgments concerning the team, and he was far busy being the guarded in this situation to argue his role as leader. The child...pah, the child was just that. In his opinion, no mere boy could be trained into a decent guard for a potted plant, let alone the great Mandarin.

Which left Otto. Understandably not the brightest of the team, Otto was arguably the easiest to excuse the absence of and the least likely to take any form of offense should he not be included in the meeting. In the most recent matter, however, it seemed a poor choice. Otto was clearly conflicted, was battling with some inner demon that Mandarin presumed had a great deal to do with his own presence within the Robot. Why, he surmised, had to do with Antauri's strange transformation, with Sprx's increased aggression, with that _damned human boy_...

A chord of pain and disgust with himself flooded Mandarin's senses, and he tensed against the onslaught. Beside him, Otto jerked to attention, seeming torn between allowing him to suffer and running for Gibson. Half a step was taken toward the door before the green monkey hesitated again, this time under a baleful glare from the prone orange counterpart. Mandarin's mouth was pulled into a painful sneer, one eye open and piercing with disdain at Otto's daring, while the other clenched shut against the crawling, aching numbness making its way through damaged circuits and tissue.

"I do not need—" The end of the sentence was cut off by a sharp intake and a flinch both on the part of the older warrior.

_Not now. Not _now_ of all times..._

"I'm going to get Gibson." Otto managed, the wince that ceased his features in keeping with his normally empathic ways. Mandarin scowled and contorted his bound frame to balance dangerously on his side, or near enough. When he had achieved a direct line of vision with his supposed guardian, he barred his jagged teeth with great menace.

"You will _not_. I refuse to be sedated for such a minor inconvenience!" Mandarin fought to sit up, before seemingly remembering the straps keeping him lying on the medical bed and collapsing against the sheets in exhaustion. He lay there for only a moment, breathing deep and forcing his muscles to relax, before painfully huffing one last time and settling against the thin cushion covering. "I am..._fine_. Do not underestimate my ability to deal with discomfort, Otto. I have suffered far worse. Save Gibson's drugs for a time when they are needed."

Otto frowned, seeming to struggle with himself before pulling away from the door and returning to the bedside. He gave an uneasy, furtive glance to the orange monkey and retracted his remaining saw blade finally, and gingerly lifting himself up to sit on the edge of the bedside table where Gibson normally stored operating tools when they were needed. Mandarin gazed at him with heavy eyes before rolling his head away and snarling lightly with only his upper lip.

"I do not need a babysitter either. Do you have nothing else to do?"

A mechanism as large large as the Super Robot; Mandarin refused to believe that nothing needed the mechanic's attention. And even if it was in the best of conditions, there was surely some tinkering Otto could locate to occupy his staring with.

"Chiro said to watch you. So I'm watching you."

This peaked Mandarin's interest, if only mildly. He tilted his face back a fraction and glared from the corner of his eye. "_Chiro_ said?' I will assume that you are speaking of your new pet."

"He is _not_ a pet." Otto snapped, his tail thrashing. "And pretending you don't know was going on isn't gonna keep you from being sent back to prison! Gibson's scanning your memory archives, so...so _there_!"

Mandarin stared.

For a very long moment.

And then he laughed.

It was not the snide chuckle which usually could be heard, nothing so demeaning. This laugh was full-throated and deep, called from some spark of mirth which usually laid dormant in Mandarin. Otto's response had been so incredibly juvenile that Mandarin could not help himself. However, the lapse was a short one, and with a final snort at the mechanic's expense, the mood of the former Hyperforce leader settled into its usual seriousness.

"Now then, disregarding your...childish and counterproductive spewing, what is this talk of pretending and prison?" Mandarin's head tilted in silent appraisal before he continued. "Do not think I have not noticed this strange...attitude you all seem to have adopted. Quite suddenly in fact. It has to do with the boy?"

"Uh, no." Otto grumbled in frustration. "It's because you showed up on our doorstep all banged up, and like it or not we're the good guys and we have to _fix_ you."

Mandarin raised an eyebrow.

"Sprx wanted to dump you in the Zone of Wasted Years and leave you for Skeleton King to scrape up."

At that, the beady eyes narrowed and Mandarin squared his shoulders. Traitorous little wretch. SPRX-77 would get his comeuppance just as soon as Mandarin was battle ready again.

"Not that I blame him. After what you did last time, I don't want you anywhere near us." Otto's face hardened and Mandarin blinked.

"Last time." He echoed, searching his memory banks. There were no major events in his mind. Much of any most recently dated files in his possession were heavily damaged, from scrabbled circuitry and possible work of their enemies. Either Otto spoke of some imagined slight dealt in training or something that he had done in a recent mission. The line of thought made his head pulse, and Mandarin schooled his features into as blank a look as he could to keep Otto from rushing for Gibson. Fool that the green monkey was, he would never stand for a second performance of the leader's earlier weariness. Rest would aid the recovery process, but in the mind in his incompetent science officer, a good dose of painkiller was apparently the only way to deal with injury.

Simpleton.

"Otto, you're are making very little sense." Mandarin paused for a moment, and continued. "Less than usual even. Explain yourself."

The silence was deafening.

"I don't have to." Otto spoke slowly as though it were a great revelation on his part. His visors winked in and out several times and he jerked his face away to glare at the closed medical bay door. "Chiro wants me to watch you, so I'm watching, but I don't have to _listen_ to you. It's your own fault you're in this mess anyway.

"_What_?" It wasn't quite a screech, but it was very close.

Otto looked over his shoulder and opened his mouth to either repeat or reply, but was cut off what the bay doors opened and the rest of the Hyperforce filed through it, accompanied still by the human whelp. The green monkey quickly hopped off the table a little guiltily, and Mandarin glared after him. The conversation blazed itself deep within his memory banks; Otto would receive due payment for that insult against his authority later. For now, there were other things for him to be concerned with.

"Mandarin." It was Antauri—but not Antauri, that strange silver creature with Antauri's voice and presence—who spoke. The child tilted his head and frowned toward a corner, but did not speak. Apparently there had been a disagreement between the two, if instinct was anything to go off of. "Gibson's completed the preliminary scan of your systems, including your core memory banks. Much of your data has suffered distortion, and as you likely have discovered for yourself, the damage wrought on you is...extentsive."

"Imagine that." Mandarin murmured hollowly. "If I might be so bold, _Antauri_, I am simply dying to know why you are going through this immense amount of trouble when you only had to ask if I remembered anything."

"Because you'd _lie_, you—"

"Sprx."

The boy bit out the name harshly, but there was no other acknowledgment of the outburst. Instead, the bright blue eyes focused on Nova, who immediately moved to tug Sprx back and hush him quietly. He continued to glare at the prone form on the medical table, but Mandarin only held the gaze with a severe determination. Admittedly, a small part of him thrummed in delight the overaggressive monkey's scolding; the rest of him was coolly enraged that once again, this...Chiro had taken command and been yielded to. When he got on this blasted cot, there was a great deal he would have to do.

"For now, we'll be keeping you confined to the medical bay." Antauri continued after a beat. That caught Mandarin's attention, and he gritted his teeth.

The boy, despite his blank face, clenched a fist and Mandarin blinked.

The child did not want him here. Not that he could be blamed. Likely it was intimidating to have the true leader of the Hyperforce watching one blunder through commanding the team. The end of his charade of power was in sight, and the boy was sulking.

How typical.

"I will advise you to attempt no ill-conceived escape attempts or to make any actions against us during your stay."

"...I beg your pardon?" Mandarin hissed, raising his head slightly to send an icy glower toward his second-in-command. The silver monkey remained unfazed (unsurprising as Antauri had always been level-headed in the face of his wrath).

"We mean it." Chiro finally met eyes with the older simian, and Mandarin fought a chill that threatened to constrict his chest. It was insane, impossible, that the child cause any measure of fearful response, let alone one as...progessed as this one. Humans were nothing in comparison to him, to his kind. Even Otto, dim-witted as he was, could easily remove a human threat in a matter of moments, no skill involved. This...boy, what was he that Mandarin's carefully controlled body seemed so keen to evade his very presence? Too many questions, and Mandarin knew he was not likely to be answered. "One wrong move, and I swear I'll make you wish we'd left you to your master."

_What? My..._what_?_

"You—!" Mandarin wrenched upward as if planning to lunge for the human's throat, and to be honest he likely would have, if the bed straps hadn't held him back. In his weakened state, he could have thrashed until he underwent another system shutdown; it would have done no good. A sudden sensation of movement behind him cause his attention to adjust, but the needle Gibson held was already sliding into his expose left shoulder. "What?"

"Apologies, Mandarin. But I think I shall prefer you unconscious while I am working." A fast-working sedative, doubtless. Gibson's voice was already wavering in octaves and the orange monkey managed only a displeased groan as he slumped forward awkwardly. Careful hands maneuvered him into a lying position and readjusted the straps to hold him there. His head lolled to the side regardless of the attempt.

As his vision drifted out, he was greeted with the departure of the rest of the team. Only Otto paused at the door and looked back at him with an expression so convoluted that it could not be read. Then he too disappeared from view.

Despite the savage denial given by his pride, his body slowly succumbed to the drug's effect. The multiple aches were soothed, the tightness of his chest loosened, and he once more sank into the promised numbness of lost consciousness.

For now at least, Mandarin slept.

* * *

I think my love for a character is shown by exposing them to excess mental and physical trauma, and seeing how they fare. Mandarin is a hardy little thing, but I cannot help feeling a little sorry for him as I look over the notes I have written for this story. I think I might be a little mean-spirited...

Just a touch, you know.

Still, I find that two years hasn't changed me as greatly as I thought it would (should). I still love this story, a little more than I do most things I write. I still want to finish it. I might, in fact. It's been a long time since I finished anything I set out to do.

We'll see.

Hugs, luffles, and chocolate truffles,

Nam


End file.
